The Hunting Games
by Sparrowclaw of ThunderClan
Summary: Follow Catmint, an ordinary Division Twelve cat, as she gets dragged into the Hunting Games, which is a warriors version of the Hunger Games. She gets tangled into a false romance with the male tribute, called Peat. How can she live up to her nickname, the cat on fire?
1. Chapter 1: Life Beforehand

**There are lots of versions of these out, yes, yes, I know, how original of me. But I wanted to do one to! And I've had the idea for a while. I might not be updating often, because right now my main prioridies are _Never Fall in Love _and _Yellowfang's Secret_, but the story's pretty easy, so I'll get a chapter in every now and then.**

**Okay, okay, so the usual story. The clans have been taken over by a group of cats called the Mainland cats. The Divisions (districts) are around the lake territory. They rebelled once, hence creating the Hunting Games (like the Hunger Games). And now we follow our character Catmint, as she participates in this hole crazy thing. You dig?**

**Now, let's get started.**

* * *

Divisions

**Division One:**  
Territory: Oak Forest  
Ancestors: ThunderClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: mice, squirrels, rabbits, birds, berries, nuts, herbs

**Division Two:  
**Territory: Mountains  
Ancestors: Tribe of Rushing Water  
Prey and Gathered Food: mice, hares, falcons, hawks, berries, herbs

**Division Three:  
**Territory: Marsh and Wet Moorland  
Ancestors: RiverClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: otters, fish, frogs, water voles, herbs

**Division Four:**  
Territory: Lakeside Beaches  
Ancestors: RiverClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: fish, others, frogs, clams, muscles

**Division Five:  
**Territory: Hills and Moorland  
Ancestors: WindClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: rabbits, falcons, moor hens, field mice, berries, herbs

**Division Six:  
**Territory: Riverside Marshes and Moorland  
Ancestors: RiverClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: rabbits, water voles, fish, muscles, berries herbs

**Division Seven:  
**Territory: Lightly Treed Oak Forest  
Ancestors: ThunderClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: mice, shrews, voles, small fish, rabbits, berries, herbs

**Division Eight:  
**Territory: Lakeside Pine Forest  
Ancestors: ShadowClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: fish, toads, frogs, lizards, mice, squirrels, minks, berries, herbs

**Division Nine:  
**Territory: Fruit Tree and Oak Forest  
Ancestors: ThunderClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: lizards, mice, squirrels, fruit, berries, herbs

**Division Ten:**  
Territory: Moorland  
Ancestors: WindClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: rabbits, field mice, berries, herbs

**Division Eleven:  
**Territory: Lakeside Moorland  
Ancestors: WindClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: rabbits, fish, mice, voles, herbs

**Division Twelve:  
**Territory: Pine Forest and Marshes  
Ancestors: ShadowClan  
Prey and Gathered Food: mice, squirrels, frogs, toads, lizards, berries, herbs

* * *

Characters

**Catmint  
**dark brown she-cat with white muzzle and paws, black flecks around pale green eyes; sister of Primrose, daughter of Dawn and Coal; cat of Division Twelve

**Primrose  
**cream-furred she-cat with blue eyes and a stub of tail; sister to Catmint, daughter of Dawn and Coal; cat of Division Twelve

**Dawn  
**cream-furred she-cat; mother of Catmint and Primrose, former mate of Coal; cat of Division Twelve

**Nightingale**  
skinny black tom with brown underbelly, chest, and muzzle; brother of Silks and Maxy; cat of Division Twelve

**Trinket  
**pale golden she-cat with amber eyes, dyes fur often; escort of Division Twelve for Hunting Games

**Silks  
**gray and brown she-cat; sister of Nightingale and Maxy; cat of Division Twelve

**Maxy  
**brown tom; brother of Nightingale and Silks; cat of Division Twelve

* * *

_The Sacred Law:_

_This empire rose up the ashes of a place that was once ruled by four unjust and unholy clans and tribe, who brought pain and suffering to our cats. A brutal, unprovoked war began between the innocent Mainland and the clans. When the clans fell, the result was our a empire, a shining Mainland ringed by thirteen Divisions, which brought peace and prosperity to its cats. Then came the rebellion of the Divisions toward the Mainland. Twelve Divisions were defeated, the thirteenth destroyed. The Sacred Law was lie down, and as a reminder of the terrible war that should never be repeated, we have our Hunting Games._

_In punishment for uprising, each Division must submit one tom and one she-cat between the ages of six and twelve moons, to participate in a seasonal Hunting Games, in which the competitors must fight to the death in a controlled arena. The last competitor alive is crowned champion._

* * *

A finch twittered merrily in the distance. Ironically, nothing was truly merry about this life. This life was cold and unforgiving. But finches aren't very intelligent, so they know not when to twitter merrily or when to remain silent and solemn like all else.

A dark brown she-cat was awoken by this careless chirping of the finch. Her pale green eyes blinked open slowly. She, alone, was quite glad that the finch had twittered, because she was sleeping late.

She shook the moss from her somewhat-groomed pelt and stretched quietly, sighing into the cold morning air.

Catmint was her name. A strange name to any Twoleg reading this, but a sentimental name for the she-cat. She was named after a vital herb, one which cured deadly sickness. Her father and mother had taught her of many herbs. They were known as a "medicine cat family", meaning they were descended down from what was once called a "medicine cat", or a healer for a so-called "clan".

"Clans" were now mostly forgotten. It was said that these clans were groups of cats bound by a "warrior code". They lived together, the stronger hunting for and defending the weak. It sounded like a nice idea to Catmint. If cats shared food, none would go hungry, right?

That definitely wasn't the case of the conditions she lived in now. All Division cats hunted for the Mainland cats.

The Mainland cats were a group of, how did they put it? "Rogues", maybe, or hostile non-clan cats. They had long since taken over the clans, which they, when they had overpopulated, divided into twelve Divisions, each hunting in a seperate territory to sustain the Mainland cats. In return, the Mainland cats gave them grub.

Grub was the nickname Division cats had named the gross food that the Mainland gave them. It was usually a mixture of crow-food and Twoleg rubbish, mixed in with herbs and vegetation to keep their strength up. It normally had bugs in it, like grubs, hence the name.

Not a very fun arrangement for the Division cats, huh? Why not rebel against the government? The Division cats_ had_ rebelled, but had lost the battle. That's how the Hunt was created.

The Hunting Games of the Sacred Law, or the Hunt, is when the Mainland took two young cats from each Division made then fight to the death in an arena. It showed the utter power of the Mainland, that they could take the Divisions' young ones and kill them, and they could do naught about it.

That's when Catmint remembered. Today was the day of the Drawing of Stones. It was a ritual that dated back to the very first cats, but Catmint doubted that it was used in this manner. Each cat between the ages of six and twelve moons was issued one stone, but they could issue for more if they wished. The cats received the stones coated in mud, and when the escort gave the cue, the cats would remove the mud from the stones. If one of the stones had the mark of blood upon it, then they were the lucky male or female tribute of the Division. With each stone a cat issued for, another paw-ful of grub was added to their family's income.

Catmint's sister stirred in her sleep. She let out a cry and shot to her paws. "Catmint!" she shrieked! "Catmint!"

Catmint rushed to her sister's aid, and wrapped her tail around her slender, frail shoulders. She was shaking violently. "It's alright, Primrose. Hush now," she soothed. Primrose's calmed down, her little cream stub of a tail twitching. The rest of her tail had been torn off by a Mainland cat when she was just a tiny kit.

"Hush, Duck-tail," Catmint whispered. Duck-tail was what Coal had nicknamed her sister, trying to lighten the idea of having lost her tail.

Coal was the father of Catmint and Primrose. He had died in the marshes a season ago. He had been a joker, always cheering them up when they were sad. Now that he was gone, their trio of a family had been reduced to a dark little excuse.

"I dreamed that it was me," Primrose whispered, her blue eyes huge. "Me, in the Hunting Games. They were chasing me! And I couldn't find you! I ran and ran and ran, but I couldn't find you!" she said, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Catmint pressed her muzzle comfortingly into Primrose's soft cream-colored fur.

_Why does the Mainland have to do this?_ she thought angrily, listening the Primrose's rapid breathing.

"Why don't I tell you a story?" she said, smiling brightly. Primrose sniffled and nodded. "I'll tell you the story about the Shadow cats."

Primrose looked up at her with her enormous sapphire eyes, and Catmint began her favorite story. "Long ago, in this very land, powerful cats ruled. They lived together with a great leader, and hunted in the shadows of the pines and the depths of the marshes. They stalked through the night, and feasted on frogs and lizards and mice and squirrels! When the kits were six moons old, they were trained to hunt and fight for the other cats. And when they completed their training, they became warriors! Other cats lived around the lake too, but the Shadow cats were the greatest. They were the best warriors. And it is said that we are descended down from them, and their legacy lives on... in... us!" Catmint whispered, finishing dramatically.

Primrose's eyelids drooped and she yawned. "That was a great story," she said, curling up in a tighter ball. Catmint rose from the nest and gave her sister's ears an affectionate lick, and then exited the den.

Catmint waded through the muddy area at the entrance to their den. Not really an ideal place, but all the ideal places were taken up by Mainland cat dens. By the time marshes ended, Catmint was covered in sticky muck from her paws to her belly. She sat on a tall boulder that looked out over the lake and began to wash the mud out of her fur.

When she finished, she continued on through the pines until she came to the old Twoleg nests. There was a hole row of about five Twoleg nests that were abandoned. Mice and rats scuttled around constantly. She scrabbled up a pile of flat slabs of smooth stone, and hooked her claws onto the edge of the roof, and pushed upward with her hind legs. With that, she plopped herself down on the roof. This was where she always met Nightingale.

She recalled the first time she had met him. It was one of the very first times she had wandered into the old Twolegplace without Coal. She was nervous, but determined. She had climbed up onto the roof of the first Twoleg den, and looked over the tops of the others. The sun had been glinting of the clear stone that filled the holes in the sides of the dens.

"Hey, there, she-cat!" he had said, just materializing behind her. She had nearly jumped off of the roof.

"Don't sneak up on me, you piece of fox-dung!" she had spat, trying to defy him, though her legs shook with fear. "I'll fight you!"

He laughed and took a mock-threatening step toward her. She had unsheathed her claws, and raised a paw. "Don't come any nearer!" she hissed, her voice quivering, and her eyes wide.

"What's your name she-cat?" the black tom asked. Catmint hesitated, still deciding whether or not to trust this strange cat.

"My name is... Catmint," she replied, drawing her head up in a prideful manner. The black tom laughed again.

"Catnip? You mean like the stuff that grows in Twoleg gardens?" he asked playfully. Catmint growled angrily.

"The proper name is Cat_mint_, not catnip," she hissed, the fur along her spine bristling. The stange tom rolled his eyes, and took another step closer to her.

"Proper, are we? You a Mainland cat, being all "proper"? You don't look like one, with that mess of twigs you've got as a pelt," he sneered. Catmint scraped her claws across one of the cleanly cut red stones on the roof of the den.

"I'm _not_ a Mainland cat. And my pelt is _not_ a mess of twigs!" she growled. This tom was really getting on her nerves.

"If you say so. Anyway, the names Nightingale. What're you doing in the ol' Twolegplace, Catnip? Don't you know its forbidden by the Mainland?" he asked.

"Well, you're here. What's so special about you that you get be here and I don't?" she mewed. Nightingale shrugged.

"I dunno. I always hang here. I haven't seen many other trotting 'round here, though. 'S why I'm surprised to see you here," he said casually.

"My father comes here all the time!" Catmint boasted. Nightingale nodded.

"I seen a tom, looks like you, 'round here. Good hunter. You hunt?" he asked. Catmint swallowed, wondering if he would test her, and nodded.

"What do you say to me n' you hunting together? Tomorrow? Same time, same place," he has said, and then, without letting her reply, he had left. And she had met him again.

Nightingale appeared again, at the exact same time as always, sleek and light-footed as he padded gracefully along the edge of the Twoleg nest neighboring the one Catmint sat on. He then glided over the space between them, and landed nicely beside her with a grin on his face.

"Show-off," she murmured, and thought again how fitting his name was. He was built exactly like a bird, and could almost fly across the rooftops as they went from one to another. The orange bird he was named after could barely match his perfect leaps with its wings.

The sun had now risen, and drenched the pines with its golden flow. Nightingale's amber eyes glistened in the light, and Catmint had to turn away to keep herself from staring into his handsome, angular face.

"Look at this!" he said, and dropped a leaf rap he held under his chin. He unraveled the leaf binding to reveal a ginger-furred creature hidden inside. Catmint let out a purr of delight.

"Squirrel!" she exclaimed, and pawed the bushy-tailed rodent as if to check if it was real. "How did you get this?" she demanded.

"Sneaked it," he said, and picked it up in his jaws. He dispatched the creature from its tail and pressed the feathery ginger tendril up against his ears.

"Happy Hunting Games, of the Sacred Law!" he mewed, imitating the high-pitched voice of Trinket, the Division Twelve escort, who often wore squirrel tails on her head.

The Mainland cats had a ridiculous habit of adorning themselves with tufts of brightly-colored fur, flowers, feathers, berries, or other parts of animals. It was supposed to make them look festive, but Catmint thought it made them look silly.

"And may the odds by ever in your favor!" Nightingale finished. Catmint laughed and tore a piece of flesh off of the squirrel.

"Oh, I wish Primrose was here! She's never tasted Squirrel before!" she mewed, licking up the meat in one swift bite. Nightingale passed her another piece, and before long, she has tucked in.

"That was delicious! I'll never understand how you trick Mainland guards," she said, admiring his skill.

"My stealth comes from my ShadowClan heritage!" Nightingale mewed. Catmint cocked her head curiously. "You know, the Shadow cats, from the nursery tales?" he asked.

Catmint gave him a quizzical look. "But why did you call it ShadowClan?" she asked. Nightingale shrugged.

"That's what my mother calls them. You know, the four clans? One of them must've been ShadowClan," he said thoughtfully. Catmint wondered if that was true.

"Hmm. Maybe, I guess," she said. "Now many stones did you issue for in the Drawing?" she asked.

"Fifteen," Nightingale said. As Catmint's eyes widened, he added, "I needed the extra grub! Silks and Maxy eat more than the rest of us put together nowadays."

Nightingale's mother had recently given birth to a litter of two kits. Nightingale now had five brothers and sisters and his mother to take care of. He needed all the food he could get.

"But what if you Draw a blood-stained rock, Nightingale? Then who will feed Silks and Maxy, and all of your other kits? I can't possible do that... I'm not a miracle-hunter like you are!" she said.

It was true, Nightingale could hunt better than any other cat. What if he died in the Hunt? How would his family survive?

"If I got Drawn, I'd win! And so would you. You can hunt well, too. You're used to the Twolegplaces, unlike a lot of the other tributes. We could win," he said. Catmint wasn't so confident.

_Could I really win?_ she thought. _I just hope I don't have to find out._


	2. Chapter 2: The Drawing of Stones

**Here's another chapter. Thought I'd write one while the ideas were fresh in my head. Don't expect another for a bit. Hope you liked this one though!**

**Also, if you're confused, Leader Bumblebee is Mayor Undersee, Match is Madge Undersee, Trinket is Effie Trinket, Peat is Peeta Mellark, and the deathberries are like the mocking-jays. Get it? Got it? Good.**

* * *

Characters

**Catmint  
**dark brown she-cat with white muzzle and paws, black flecks around pale green eyes; sister of Primrose, daughter of Dawn and Coal; cat of Division Twelve

**Leader Bumblebee  
**pale brown tabby tom; father of Match; leader of Division Twelve

**Match  
**pale brown she-cat; daughter of Leader Bumblebee; cat of Division Twelve

**Primrose  
**cream-furred she-cat with blue eyes and a stub of tail; sister to Catmint, daughter of Dawn and Coal; cat of Division Twelve

**Dawn  
**cream-furred she-cat; mother of Catmint and Primrose, former mate of Coal, cat of Division Twelve

**Nightingale  
**skinny black tom with brown underbelly, chest, and muzzle; brother of Silks and Maxy; cat of Division Twelve

**Trinket  
**pale golden she-cat with amber eyes, dyes fur often; escort of Division Twelve for Hunting Games

**Peat  
**golden tabby tom with blue eyes; cat of Division Twelve

* * *

Just a few more hours, and then the random poor innocent kit who found a dark red stain on their stone would be named. Catmint sighed as she plucked the last of the plump raspberries off of the bush in the abandoned Twoleg garden.

She wrapped the berries in are large leaf and grasped the package in her jaws as she made her way back to the Division Twelve encampment. The main camp was ringed by the large, elaborate dens that housed the Mainland cats. When she found the one she was looking for, she tapped her claws against a stone at the entrance, requesting entry.

This was Leader Bumblebee's den. He was of clan descent, like the rest of the Division cats; a local leader was appointed to each Division so that the residents could be governed partially by one of their own. Bumblebee was a kind old tom. He wasn't very bold, or confident, but he reasoned well with the harsh, strict Mainland guards, and made sure that the Division cats' lives weren't completely miserable.

Leader Bumblebee's daughter, Match, appeared at the entrance. She was nice, like her father, and had been a sort of a friend to Catmint in their unpleasant life. She would not be counting her blessings today at the Drawing. She was safe. It was unfair, but understandable.

"Hello, Catmint," she mewed with a soft smile. Her amber eyes darted to the leaf wrap in Catmint's mouth. "What's that you got there?"

Catmint placed her burden at her feet. "The raspberries your father wanted, Match," she explained, grinning back civilly.

Match's eyes lit up with delight, and she leaned down in front of Catmint to snatch the parcel up. As Match's head lowered, Catmint's eyes caught on a small bright red berry tucked into the curve of Match's right ear.

Catmint ordinarily detested the practice of decorating one's self with flowers, leaves, fur, and berries. But the simplistic blotch of color suited Match's brown form well. Catmint recognized the small fruit as a deathberry.

Deathberries were very common around the lake. Hence the name, the consumption of even just one deathberry meant certain death. Early after the clans' defeat, when cats were first required to collect berries and herbs along with prey for the Mainland cats, the clan cats, being native to the lake territories, were familiar with deathberries.

The clan cats began to intentionally collect deathberries with their other deposits, and when the berries were eaten by the Mainland cats, they would die, obviously.

As soon as the Mainland cats realized what was happening, the plotted to rid the lake territories of the deadly plants. The bushes were dug up, every last one. The Mainland cats weren't sure where to put the bushes, so, for the time being, they were placed up on the bare hills of the moorland.

The constant, violent winds of the moor plucked the berries up and and tossed them everywhere, hence planting the bushes in all places on the lake territtories, so that there were even more deathberry bushes than before. The population grew overwhelming and the mainland cats concluded to leave the bushes be. But the collection of deathberries was forbidden, and punishable by execution, so the deathberry could no longer be a secret weapon of the Division cats.

Even so, the deathberries represented one of the few failures of the Mainland cats, a painful sign that was easily a scratch on the nose, whenever displayed, such as on a cat as a decoration.

Match noticed that Catmint's gaze had fastened on her small adornment, and flashed a pearly grin. "Speaking of berries, do you like it? It was my idea. The color suits me well, doesn't it?" she asked.

Catmint wasn't exactly sure was she was talking about, but nodded, and once again returned Match's smile. And, because she had no further business, she trotted out of the dwelling-place of many of her enemies, who of which some had begun to give her suspicious glowers.

* * *

Back in the den with her mother and younger sister, Catmint slicked the shaggy tuft of fur on Primrose's forehead back with her tongue. "There you go, Duck-tail, ready to go to the Drawing?" she asked in a cheerful voice.

Primrose's lip quivered, but she swallowed her anxiety and nodded mutely. Catmint gave her a reassuring smile, and a nuzzle between the ears.

Dawn entered the den, a bit of grub in her jaws. She placed the stinking food at her younger daughter's feet, and gave her an affectionate lick. "Here, eat this before you go to the main camp, Primrose. You look absolutely beautiful," she commented, and then turned to the older of her kits. "Ready?" she questioned softly.

Catmint gave a slight nod, without speaking. Ever since Coal had died, their mother-daughter relationship had been reserved, and cold.

After Primrose had licked up the small piece of crow-food, they departed and were herded into the main camp with the rest of the cats in their age group. There, they were seperated, Primrose into six-moons-old section, and Catmint into the ten-moons-old section.

Catmint spotted Nightingale a ways away in the crowd. He grinned at her, as they got into line to receive their stones.

The Mainland cat distributing the pile of muddy stones stared down at her, as he was monstrously large. "Name?" he huffed in a gruff voice.

"Catmint."

"Number of stones issued?"

"Eight, sir."

The Mainland cat passed her the eight stones one by one, and Catmint rolled the stones out of the way so that the next cat could step up.

After everyone had gotten the stones that they had issued, Trinket, her fur colored pink, and Leader Bumblebee mounted on the boulder at the front of the encampment. Leader Bumblebee recited the Sacred Law, and then Trinket took the stage.

"Welcome, young cats of Division Twelve, to this green-leaf's Drawing of Stones! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" she said in a clear, dramatic voice, and then paused, as if waiting to be applauded. When the gathered crowd of juveniles made no sound, she continued. "Well, then, let us begin!"

Catmint braced herself. She prayed to, uh... the Star cats, or whatever there was up there in the sky, and gritted her teeth as she thought of what would happen if on of her stones was blood-stained.

"She-cats," Trinket meowed, "Uncover your stones!"

Catmint did not hesitate, and, one after the other, wiped away the mud on each of her eight stones to find a clean, gray surface. She let out a sigh of relief. Everything would be fine, just fine.

"Now, who is the lucky she-cat?" Trinket drawled. The crowd was silent. And then, barely audible, there came a gasp. It was actually so high-pitched that it was more a squeak. It was a squeak that Catmint recognized.

The crowd parted, to reveal a tiny trembling cream-furred she-cat, with only a stub of a tail. Catmint took a second to register this in her brain.

"What is your name, darling?" said the escort sweetly, a poisoned-honey smile curling eerily onto her face.

"Pri-Primrose," said the quiet, terrified voice.

"No," Catmint whispered, her eyes widening. "No!" she said again, only her voice was a shout, and not a whisper. "No! No! No, Primrose, no!" She rang out in a chorus of distressed cries, like that of a mother watching her child toddle into the claws of death.

She was running through the crowd now, shoving her way past other cats in her way. Two hardy Mainland cats tried to contain her, but she dashed away from them, to where Primrose was being led up to the boulder.

Five Mainland cats fell on her at once, holding her down as she screamed, "No! No! No!"

Primrose was now struggling as well, as she sobbed, "Catmint! Ca-Catmint!"

The other young cats watched in horror, as the two sisters were torn apart. They could do nothing. All they could do is watch them with a look a pity and sadness, and thank the spirits that it was these to unfortunate cats, and not themselves.

Catmint struggled hard, clawing and biting, her green eyes fixed on the tiny, skinny cream form that was pawing at her captors with no effect.

And then, in a split second, everything made sense. Catmint knew what she had to do, and though it would cause pain to everyone she knew, and probably cause her death, it was the only way Primrose would survive. With her, there was a chance. She knew how to handle Twolegplaces, and she was four moons older, but there was certainly no chance with Primrose.

She quit struggling, and the Mainland cats planted her onto the earth, a sharp pebble piercing her flank painfully. "I volunteer!" she screamed from the ground where she was pinned down. "I volunteer as a tribute!"

Everyone froze. For a few seconds that seemed like hours, no one moved or made a sound. And then, Trinket, of course, broke the dead silence. "What an unusual event! Why don't you come up here with me, young she-cat?" she purred gleefully.

Catmint's breathing was hard and violent as she bit back the tears that were stinging her eyes. She hesitantly pattered through the crowd, and scraped her way up the boulder slowly, all this time taking in what she had done.

She was in the Hunting Games.

She almost didn't hear it when Trinket asked, "What is your name, darling?"

Catmint swallowed, and said in a bold voice, "Catmint." Her one-word statement was greeted by a series of soft whispers rippling through the crowd. Primrose was still sobbing, still struggling in vain against the Mainland cats that were holding her back.

Trinket put an overly fluffy tail on Catmint's shoulders. Catmint had to grit her teeth to resist the urge to shrug it off. "Cats of Division Twelve! You have your she-cat tribute!" Trinket told the crowd, though they already were aware of what she was speaking of. "Catmint!"

"And now for the toms! Toms, uncover your stones!" There was a prompt scratching noise as all of the toms scraped the mud off of their stones. A loud, startled grunt emanated from the rear of the body of gathered cats.

A bulky, well-groomed golden tabby tom was the source of the sound. "And what is your name, young one?" Trinket chimed.

The golden tabby walked on trembling legs to the stand. When he reached the boulder, he mewed in a barely audible voice, "Pe-Peat."


End file.
